


The Meeting

by Angelci5



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelci5/pseuds/Angelci5





	The Meeting

Winter 2001

Doyle stands outside _The Swan & Mitre_ and takes a couple of deep, fortifying breaths.

This is ridiculous, he chides himself. He’s faced life-threatening situations more times than he can remember without hesitation, and yet he’s nervous about walking into a bloody pub for a drink.

He should be feeling the cold, standing out here like a spare part, but nerves and adrenalin are proving to be an impressive form of insulation, and he’s thankful for the cooling chill of the night air.

He needlessly adjusts and smoothes the collar of his jacket, wondering if his leather jacket would’ve looked better. No, this jacket is all right. Worn with his jeans and a shirt, it's the perfect smart-casual combo… just like he used to wear in CI5.

He doesn’t think he looks very different from those days... but then he wouldn’t, would he, he sees himself every day. He knows his hair is shorter and greyer than it was, and yes, perhaps he's a couple of pounds heavier now, but he’s still slim and fit, even if it is that much bloody harder to stay that way.

Right, time to stop stalling, he decides, and pulls open the pub door and steps inside. He’s immediately enshrouded by an almost stifling warmth, a sharp contrast to the cool, fresh air outside. The pub's busy for a Wednesday evening, office-workers mostly, filling the place with their chatter.

His heart is beating so fast, Doyle wryly considers what a cruel twist of fate it would be if it chose this moment to give out. He scans the room, his eyes instinctively drawn towards the tables at the back, and there he spots Bodie sitting in a corner, looking directly at him and smiling broadly.

 _He’s hardly changed,_ is Doyle’s first thought. _A bit slimmer, perhaps, hair a bit grey..._

Doyle makes his way over, weaving through all the drinkers standing around in small groups, hoping Bodie won’t see his nerves, the butterflies in his stomach, the hammering of his heart...

Bodie stands up to greet him, holding out his hand. “Good to see you, Doyle,” he grins, as they shake hands firmly.

Doyle feels his nerves recede a little at the warm welcome. “And you,” he smiles back. And now he’s up close, Doyle can see that Bodie’s aged too, see the more prominent lines around the blue eyes... the beautiful face he used to know has matured. And it suits him. He still looks bloody gorgeous.

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Doyle feels overwhelmed and at a loss for words. He searches desperately for something to say. “So, you found the place all right, then?” he manages, and inwardly cringes at the banal question, but Bodie doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, no problem. I might live out of town now, but I can still find my way around,” he replies amiably. “Got you a beer, hope that’s OK?”

Doyle looks down and sees the spare pint on the table. “Yeah, beer’s fine, thanks,” he says, pulling out the chair and sitting down opposite Bodie.

“Thought you might’ve given up drinking or something,” Bodie tells him jovially, “gone teetotal, or found religion... never know, do you...?”

 _He’s talking too much, he’s nervous too_ , Doyle realises. “Nah, not me, and I see you haven’t either... Cheers.” He lifts his pint and takes a few grateful gulps of the cool liquid.

“Cheers.” Bodie drinks some of his pint, too. “Must be about fifteen years,” he says.

Doyle nods. “Yeah, ‘bout that,” he agrees, knowing it’s exactly that. Exactly fifteen years since Bodie told him.

“So, what are you doing these days?” asks Bodie.

Doyle puts his pint back down on the beer mat. “Heard of DRP Security?”

“Course,” says Bodie, “it’s one of the best security outfits in Europe. What do you do for them, then? Not out in the field, are you?”

“Not exactly,” replies Doyle casually, pausing to enjoy the moment. “I own it.” He smiles as Bodie’s eyebrows fly upwards. “And it’s not one of the best, it’s _the_ best,” he adds smugly.

“Bloody hell, Doyle,” says Bodie in open admiration, “I had no idea... you must be rolling in it!”

Doyle chuckles. “I do all right.”

Bodie seems delighted by his success, asking him about DRP with genuine interest, and Doyle enjoys telling him about it.

It’s almost like the old days, he thinks painfully, as Bodie goes to get another round, the two of them in their own private world, chatting easily and comfortably, and with a shared knowledge.

When Bodie returns with their pints, he continues to ask Doyle about DRP, keen to hear all about the latest technology and techniques they use. But while Doyle is pleased to have such an appreciative audience of his work, he hasn’t missed the wistfulness in Bodie’s eyes.

“Anyway, what about you?” Doyle asks, after making Bodie laugh with a story about a flak jacket, a sniffer dog and an unfortunate MP. “You haven’t done too badly either, have you?”

“Yeah, business is steady, can’t complain. I’m hoping to set up a shooting range soon, too. We get a lot of ex-army boys, so it should be popular.”

“Trust you,” says Doyle, shaking his head. “So you can spend your day shooting targets and still call it work.”

“Yeah,” agrees Bodie happily. “That’s the plan. If only I could palm the paperwork off on someone, I’d be laughing,” he grins.

“And how’s the family?” Doyle forces himself to ask, taking a mouthful of his beer.

Bodie hesitates momentarily. “Chrissie and I divorced,” he says. “Couple of years ago.”

Doyle’s heart skips a beat. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he says. And he is, sort of. She’d been funny and sporty, very pretty... not a bad match for Bodie. Never mind the sacrifices he made for her.

Bodie shrugs. “It was for the best. She’s re-married now.”

“And your daughter?” asks Doyle, somehow managing to keep his voice level.

Bodie’s face lights up. “Daughters. Got two. Ellie’s fourteen now, and Katie’s eleven,” he says.

Doyle tries to ignore the mix of emotions rocketing through him... _Bodie’s divorced... With two kids..._ He pastes what he hopes is a happy and congratulatory expression on his face. “Wow, proud dad of two, eh! And have you decided what method you’ll use? You know, to kill any potential boyfriends?”

“Yeah, dreading that,” admits Bodie, with a sheepish smile. “Don’t think there’s any on the scene yet.”

“You get to see them a lot?”

“Every other weekend...” Bodie says, his smile faltering slightly.

“Must be hard,” says Doyle, his heart twisting for Bodie.

“It’s amazing what you get used to when you don’t have a choice,” Bodie replies quietly, looking at Doyle. He picks up his pint. “And what about you? Married?”

Doyle shakes his head. “I was with someone for nine years, but we never married. We broke up last year.”

“Kids?” asks Bodie.

Doyle looks down at his glass, shakes his head again. “No.” They’d tried, but...

“Sorry,” says Bodie.

Doyle looks up and finds himself caught in a dark blue gaze he recognises so well, even though he hasn’t seen it for years, not since that final, precious weekend they had together... a gaze full of emotion.

The urge to kiss Bodie rips through him.

“I’ve missed you,” says Doyle simply. The passage of time makes the words come easily and without shame. It‘s just the truth, after all.

“That why you broke our deal and tracked me down?” asks Bodie, but his eyes are full of humour.

“Didn’t exactly track you down...” Doyle says, trying to make light of it. “Just looked you up on the internet. There might be more than one William Bodie in the world, but an ex-Para called William Bodie who runs a sky-diving centre? I was pretty sure it was you,” Doyle smiles. “Do you wish I hadn’t?”

“No, glad you did. Couldn’t believe it when I opened my email and saw your name...”

“Thought it would be better than a phone call, less of a shock anyway,” explains Doyle, not mentioning that the thought of Bodie’s wife answering the phone was the main reason he’d emailed. He drinks some of his beer. “You never thought about getting back in touch?” he asks casually.

“Course I did,” replies Bodie sharply. “Just... we’d agreed. And I had no right,” he says, a flash of pain crossing his face.

Yes, they’d agreed. Agreed that it couldn’t carry on... even if Bodie’s ex hadn’t turned up and told him she was pregnant, they couldn’t have carried on. Not in CI5, anyway. And they’d agreed a clean break would be the only way they could survive it. Bodie deserved a chance to make it work with Chrissie.

“You had no less right than me,” says Doyle evenly.

Bodie swallows and shakes his head. The cheerful facade has vanished, now Bodie looks haunted. “It was my fault, Doyle... made my choice, didn’t I?”

 _Choice? There was no fucking choice_ , Doyle wants to shout. Bodie had done the only thing he could in the circumstances, the _decent_ thing, the _honourable_ thing, however old-fashioned that sounded now. And Doyle had loved him for that, even though it had shattered his heart into a thousand unmendable pieces.

“Wasn’t like that, mate,” says Doyle firmly. “We both decided it was for the best. We’d’ve had to end it sometime anyway,” he adds, trying to console Bodie, lessen the guilt he’s obviously been carrying.

But Bodie looks like he’s just been punched. “So... you never wanted it to last?” he asks tightly.

“Of Course I did!” says Doyle fiercely. “But how could we? We were bloody CI5, in case you’ve forgotten,” he hisses, looking around to check no one can hear them. “You think we could‘ve carried on without anyone noticing?”

“You know, I did try to get in touch with you,” Bodie says flatly. “A few months after I’d left. I tried calling you at home, but got a dead tone. So I called HQ. Eventually, they told me you’d resigned too.”

“Christ, Bodie, if I’d known you were going to call....” Doyle shakes his head helplessly, the possibilities of what might’ve been flying through his mind.

He remembers those first three months at CI5 after Bodie had left, how impossible it had been... the crippling pain of loss. That pain had numbed with time, become an ache he’d learned to live with, to be accepted as part of his life. “I resigned because I needed to move on,” says Doyle. “I couldn't stay there..." He leaves 'without you' unsaid. "And you had a wife and baby to think about, that had to come first.”

Not answering, Bodie drains his glass. “Want another?”

“I’ll get them,” says Doyle, finishing the dregs of his pint and picking up Bodie’s glass.

He feels Bodie’s gaze on him the whole time he’s at the bar, and wonders if this has been a huge, great, bloody mistake. He should’ve left well alone, not stirred it all up again.

But being him, he couldn’t, could he?

Especially last year, when he’d found himself single again and with more time to think about it, to dwell on it… to wonder what harm it would do, to just get in touch, to just say hello…

Doyle takes their pints back to the table. “Hope you’re not driving tonight,” he says mock-sternly, trying to lighten the mood. It seems to work, because Bodie smiles.

“No, officer,” he says. “I’ll get a hotel, drive back tomorrow.”

“Can stay at mine if you want...” The words are out before Doyle can stop them. Bodie just looks at him, his expression inscrutable. “I mean, I’m only five minutes away in a cab… no point forking out for a hotel if you don’t have to, is there?”

“Thanks…” says Bodie stiffly. “But I don’t want to put you to any bother.” He picks up his pint.

Despite himself, Doyle bristles at the snub. “If you prefer a hotel, fine,” he says tersely. “But just so you know, I wasn’t suggesting anything by it.”

Bodie drinks some of his beer. “Yeah, I know you weren’t…” he says slowly, his eyes locking on Doyle’s. “That’s the trouble.”

As the implication of the words hit him, Doyle’s stomach tightens with desire... his heart is suddenly fluttering in his chest, anticipation curling up through his body. “And, what if I was suggesting something…?” he says, surprised at how steady his voice sounds.

“Then I’d say, ‘how soon can we leave?’” Bodie replies.

Doyle can’t help it, he laughs. “Don’t mess about, do you?” he says. There’s suddenly a palpable tension between them, the air almost crackling around them. Doyle wonders if he can do this… share one more night with Bodie. Yes. He’ll grab anything he can with Bodie. “OK,” he says, “let’s go.”

Leaving his pint untouched, Doyle stands up and heads for the door, and for the first time in fifteen years, he has Bodie right behind him.

***

They barely make it through the front door before Bodie is on him. Pressed up against him, from thighs, to groin, to chest to lips… pinning him to the wall, devouring Doyle’s mouth, while his hands cup Doyle’s face.

Somehow, they make it to the bedroom, and to the bed. Their clothes are frantically discarded and they’re skin to skin, limbs entangled, touching, licking, caressing.

Doyle needs more, he wants to drown in the feel, smell and taste of Bodie. He slides down Bodie to lie between his legs, pushing the strong thighs upwards and running his tongue between the parted buttocks. He lingers on the sweet centre, pressing his tongue to the sensitive opening, licking it over and over, again and again, dipping inside, as Bodie's moans fill the air...

Doyle’s lost in the sensations, the intimacy and eroticism of it, until Bodie grabs hold of his wrists and hauls him back up on top of him. Bodie kisses Doyle hard, his tongue plundering Doyle’s mouth, before he huskily whispers what he wants, as he carefully guides Doyle into himself...

And then Bodie is surrounding him, gripping him... telling him how good it feels... urging him to fuck him harder...

Doyle shifts himself up so he’s kneeling, so he can fuck Bodie deeper, with long, hard thrusts... his skin still tingles from Bodie’s touch, his lips can still taste him.

“I’m close,” Doyle pants, watching his cock sliding gloriously into Bodie... over and over... _oh God, he’s fucking Bodie..._

“Come for me,” urges Bodie breathlessly. He’s stroking himself, one hand on his balls while the other slides up and down his beautiful erection. “Want to feel you come inside me...”

Tightening his hold on Bodie’s leg up against him, Doyle shortens his thrusts, balls slapping against Bodie’s arse... _and then he’s there_... explosions of ecstasy igniting along every nerve as he erupts inside Bodie, and he feels Bodie shudder beneath him, clenching around him as he climaxes with Doyle inside him...

“Christ...” Doyle slumps down beside Bodie, sliding an arm across his chest. He can feel Bodie's heartbeat, fast and strong. “Always thought I’d imagined it,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“Hmmm?”

“What it was like between us... before.” Since the first moment all those years ago when the touch paper was lit, their passion had always been the fiercest and the sweetest, intensely possessive, fuelling their need ever higher. “Thought my memory was playing tricks...”

Bodie turns onto his side, links his fingers with Doyle’s. “I didn’t,” he says. “Remembered every moment like it was yesterday... it kept me going.”

“Jesus, Bodie.” Doyle kisses him then, tries to erase every sadness Bodie has felt with that kiss.

“Can’t lose you again,” Bodie breathes against his lips.

Doyle pulls back slightly, so he can see Bodie’s face clearly. “You want us to keep seeing each other?” He can’t believe this is what Bodie wants, that it might even be possible.

“Want more than that, Ray... got fifteen years to make up for, want to be with you, share everything with you...”

“You think we can just pick up where we left off?” Doyle asks incredulously.

Bodie shrugs. “Maybe not... but I think we can at least try,” he says.

“But what about your kids? Your ex-bloody wife...?” Doyle can’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

Bodie’s arms tighten around him. “I’ll deal with it,” he says. “I’ll make sure it’s OK.”

“You can’t be sure,” argues Doyle. “What if she says you can’t see the kids any more... or they don’t like the idea of their dad with another bloke?”

“Or, maybe they’ll think I’m ‘cool’... because god knows chucking myself out of a plane doesn’t impress them...”

“Bodie, it’s not a bloody joke!”

“No, I know. But perhaps it won’t be as bad as you think. Chrissie shouldn’t care what I do, and the girls... well, I think they’ll take it in their stride.”

Doyle isn’t convinced and Bodie, obviously reading him like he always used to, slides on top of him. “Whatever happens,” he says solemnly, looking at Doyle, “won’t come between us.”

“What about _us_ coming between you and them?” Doyle didn’t give up Bodie fifteen years ago, just to let him lose everything now. “I don’t want that either.”

“It won’t. It’ll be OK, I promise.” Bodie seals his words with a kiss.

Perhaps Bodie’s right... perhaps this time they have a chance. His body blanketed heavily by Bodie, his lips taken in another tender kiss, Doyle knows he can’t give up Bodie again... _never again,_ he thinks fiercely, as the kiss turns more passionate, and then he can’t think at all.

The End


End file.
